


The One With Chores and Dancing

by orphan_account



Series: The Cosmic Finn and Poe Show [3]
Category: Star Wars
Genre: Established Poe Dameron/Finn, Established Relationship, Finn-centric, M/M, enough backstory angst, finn is hopelessly in love and theres not a gosh darned thing he can do about it, for no other reason than in every life he is bossed around by our supreme space mom, listen to the songs btw!!, poe is a mechanic in leia's autobody shop, the fluff train has entered the station, theyre very danceable i pinkyswear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 13:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Poe is working late. Finn decides to keep himself busy instead of pining after his bf.





	The One With Chores and Dancing

When Finn comes home from work, an empty apartment greets him. There's an unusually audible _click_ as the door closes behind him. He wanders the place listlessly, flipping on light switches to revive the lamps and dragging his feet as he walks. Poe isn’t home yet. But Finn knows he’ll be back soon enough.

It’s quiet, though. Too quiet. He wants something to cut through it. So he sets up the record player, selecting a vinyl from Poe’s enormous collection and slipping the record carefully out of its brightly colored jacket. Once he drops the needle onto the record (again, _carefully,_ ) the intro music that fills the room is something almost tangibly soft and Finn sinks into the couch, pulling his feet to his chest as he loses himself in it.

Finn’s thoughts irrevocably turn to Poe. And he likes thinking about Poe, so he doesn’t stop himself. Sue him.

Finn thinks about holding Poe's hand. Poe’s fingers are long: artist’s fingers; pianist’s fingers. Finn thinks about twining his fingers with Poe’s and squeezing tight. He thinks about the ever-present chill in Poe’s hands. He thinks about rubbing their palms together and trying to warm them up with his own body heat. Finn’s own hands move slowly to fit together the way his and Poe’s would have if Poe was here. They settle in his lap, and if Finn closes his eyes and imagines the smell of engine grease and mint chewing gum in the air around him, it almost _almost_ feels as if Poe is right there.

After a while of wallowing in the hopeless longing inside his chest, Finn straightens up and separates his hands. He pulls out his phone and sends a quick series of texts to Poe.

 _hi_  
_missing u_  
 _coming home soon?_

Ten excruciating minutes later, his phone pings. The speed at which he whips it out is almost embarrassing.

 _hey babe_  
_leias keeping me late_  
 _dont know how much longer ill be_  
 _no need to cook for me; pizza leftovers in the fridge_  
 _dont wait up_

Finn winces and makes a strangled sort of whimper in the back of his throat. He wants to grab Poe by the lapels of his stupid leather jacket and shake him. _What do you mean “don’t wait up”? How can I not?_

He tells himself that he will stay up. If only to prove a point. That, and the fact that Poe will have to microwave leftovers by himself if Finn takes his advice and sleeps. And, truth be told, Poe can’t microwave to save his life. Really, it’d be better for everyone’s health that Finn waited up so _he_ could heat up the leftovers for Poe. A precautionary measure so that their building wouldn’t burn down.

He doesn’t admit that he can’t sleep without Poe lined up against him. Doesn’t admit that he doesn’t feel drowsy unless he can feel Poe’s heart thumping steadily and rhythmically against his chest. And he certainly doesn’t admit that when Poe, who rouses from his slumber every now and then and presses their lips together softly before going back to bed, is what keeps his nightmares away.

Finn sighs as he types out his reply

_ok. c u then._

He decides to keep himself busy until Poe arrives, just so that he won't fall asleep waiting.

So he does the dishes that have been sitting in the sink for days. Or longer. Finn can't remember the last time they ate on plates—they’ve been eating off of paper towels because all the dishes are dirty. The dishwasher is broken, so he washes and dries them by hand; rolling up his sleeves and plastering a frown of concentration on his face. The metal basin is brimming with thick swathes of cloudlike foam, and the air is tinged with the sharp scent of lemon. He taps his foot along to the smooth music, raking a wad of steel wool over the ceramic to remove the fossilized grime. In the process, he splatters soapsuds onto one of the three clean button-downs he owns.

He’s reminded by this that he should do probably laundry next.

There’s a stack of yellow post-its on the fridge door, and a length of string taped onto the fridge beside it. To the end of this length of string is a pen. Finn and Poe used this setup to write little notes, or leave messages about their whereabouts, or for Poe to doodle and then for Finn to add sunglasses to the doodle, later.

Finn uses it now to make a little list.

  1. Dishes



He proudly scores that one out, but it’s a neat, single line, so people who read it can still see that he’s accomplished something.

  1. Laundry



Here, he fumbles for something else to do. Wracking his brain and coming up empty, he decides that maybe it’ll occur to him later, so he leaves it at that.

Finn, armed with Busy Earnin’ by the Jungle and a basket on his hip, strides into his and Poe’s bedroom and flings open the closet. He is immediately bombarded with the scent of _Poe Dameron_ that fills it.

Finn has had time to do his own laundry, but Poe is not as fortunate. All his shirts, sweaters, jeans, and undershirts have been worn at least three times already, and Finn is pretty sure he’s been recycling his underwear, too. The stupid notion that by wearing it backwards, then inside-out, then backwards _again_ somehow means that the underwear is clean, irks Finn to no end.

 _What has my life come to?_ he wonders as he steels himself to do another grown man’s laundry for him.

He funnels everything that looked like it _could_ belong to Poe into the wicker laundry basket, and tops the grimy pile of clothes off with a large box of Tide he'd retrieved from under the sink. He makes a beeline for the elevator and, once inside, jams his thumb on a button with a t-shirt drawn on it, just above the ground floor button. He rocks on his heels slowly along to the tropical elevator music (no other words to describe it) he’s heard so many times before, and once the doors slide open with a slow _creak,_ he heads out; pushing the double doors leading into the laundromat with one hand.

Finn separates the clothes into darks, lights, dark delicates, and light delicates, then splits _these_ into batches, and loads them batch-by-batch into two separate machines, humming the elevator music as he does. He stuffs his hand into his pocket for some loose change, and opens his palm triumphantly to reveal some quarters. 

It’s a long and slow process, but then again, it’s not like Finn has anything else to do. In any case, he enjoys using his hands for something else other than typing things out and writing things down. It’s…gratifying. Makes him feel purposeful.

Once he shifts the washed clothes into the dryers, he pulls out his phone to kill time. He most definitely does _not_ feel a pang of disappointment when he sees that Poe hasn’t replied to his text, but maybe Poe’s just busy. Finn wants to call him, but he knows better than to bother Poe while he’s elbows-deep in the belly of someone’s car. Especially when he's being held back by the boss-lady herself: Leia Organa-Solo. She's terrifying, but her husband seems to balance it out with his laid-back attitude towards...well, everything. Finn remembers him from the time they'd been invited to dinner at the Organa-Solo's house. He remembers their son, too. Decent, super-quiet kid. A few years younger than Finn.

Arms loaded with a basket of clean, dry clothes that weigh about as much as a pickup truck (Finn sends a silent thank-you to the weights he’s been lifting lately), he makes the journey home with a spring in his step. When he unlocks the door, he realizes he’s left the record player on as Time by the Jungle fills his ears.

As he folds the clothes neatly and arranges them into the closet, he finds his hips slowly swaying along to the music. It’s a little awkward at first, but when they find the beat, they keep time pretty well, and soon he’s dancing in their bedroom, eyes closed and completely lost in the music.

Finn sings, because he’s heard this song so many times before, and he can feel the words rush through him and out of his fingertips and he struts out into the living room; hands in the air and wrists curling. He can feel the tension and tiredness spilling out of his bones in thick, noxious waves as he rolls his hips once, twice, thrice, four times. He clicks his heel against the floor—pop, lock, shuffle, one-two-one-two, _twist_ —when he feels a pair of hands slide over the gentle curve of his waist and a firm body press into him from behind.

Finn is quite obviously alarmed, and his surprised yelp dissolves into laughter as he feels the rough scrape of an achingly familiar four o’clock shadow as Poe presses his mouth against Finn’s neck. When Finn acknowledges his presence by tilting his head to the other side, thereby allow Poe easier access, Poe murmurs a soft “Hello, you gorgeous thing,” before spinning Finn around and mirroring his moves.

“You came!” Finn exclaims in delight as his boyfriend dips him and kisses him quickly, sliding back into the rhythm without a single hiccup.

Poe’s grin is tired but dazzling, and he laughs as he leads a dance they both know like the backs of their hands. _Swing,_ Finn realizes with a start, grinning at the memory of the classes they took a year ago. “Of course I came. Couldn’t keep this good lovin’ waiting,” he smiles as Finn rolls his eyes.

"I thought Leia was keeping y--"

"So did I, but then I saw how late it'd gotten, and I was like 'Chief, my main squeeze is probably waiting for me at home, even though I told him not to,'--" Finn blushes. "--'and if I go home any later, he's gonna worry himself into a hole in the ground.' and she laughs, because I'm charming like that, and lets me off the hook." Poe kisses the tip of Finn's nose.

"Did you seriously call me your 'main squeeze'?" Finn's voice is incredulous. Poe shrugs and slides his palms against the small of Finn’s back, allowing them to wander lower and lower until they’re sinking in Finn’s back pockets. Poe proceeds to grab Finn's ass through the material of his jeans.

"What'd I tell ya? My main squeeze."

Finn snorts. "You're a total dickhead, Poe Dameron," he says, eyebrows in sarcastic arches.

"You love me," replies Poe, calmly necking Finn.

"You're not worth the trouble. Maybe I should get myself a mistress," Finn retorts, and Poe pulls away. His expression is aghast.

"You wouldn't."

"Yeah? Watch me."

“I don’t think there are male equivalents for mistresses, dollface," muses Poe.

“Let me worry about that, and you just worry about not stepping on my toes, you meathead.”

Poe’s bark-like laughter mixes with the slowly fading music; the song drawling into the final curtain call as the beat is brought back for the last time. They dance the last few seconds in silence, broad grins on their faces and hands firm and grounding. Finn keeps his eyes on Poe’s until the last remnants of the song melts into the silence of the night, and his heart is full.

Now they’re simply standing in their living room, pressed flush against each other; not knowing where one person ends and the other begins. Poe scatters lazy, gentle kisses across Finn’s forehead, not minding in the least that because of a sheen of sweat glazing it, his lips taste of salt. “I’ve missed you,” he says quietly.

“I’ve missed you more,” counters Finn. Poe shakes his head and presses closer.

“Not possible.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a sort of cooldown piece while I was screaming through a larger, multichapter fic for another fandom. Sorry for the super-late update, and let me know what you'd like to see Finn and Poe doing (wink wink nudge nudge) in other one-shots, because I'm the Worst at Plots and also I like hearing from you guys. Makes my day.


End file.
